


Secrets of Clarity

by Jordiijordiison



Category: Emma Swan - Fandom, Once Upon a Time (TV), Regina Mills - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cults, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Domestic Violence, F/F, F/M, Human Sacrifice, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Major Character Injury, Past Violence, References to Drugs, Religious Conflict, Slow Burn, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 09:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20580236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jordiijordiison/pseuds/Jordiijordiison
Summary: *This is an original plot with borrowed characters, that I do not own.*19-year-old Emma and her mother Mary Margaret are searching for an escape from an abusive relationship. They end up in a small town where everything seems a little to perfect and accommodating. Just when Emma thinks that just maybe this place can be home, she uncovers secrets that are too dark to keep hidden.This story depicts an epic rise and fall of a religious community (cult), whose goal is to enlighten conflicted souls and guide them to "salvation". The journey starts near the end and works its way back, uncovering chilling pasts and murderous intentions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to posting here, so any advice, ideas or critiques would be wonderful! Also, all mistakes are my own. My laptop is down so I've been writing everything on my phone :(

Chapter One  
The End

January 11th, 2019

Growing up my perception of the world had always been clear to me, there was good and bad, right and wrong with no exceptions. It was righteous and right. There were no shades of grey or levels in which I would allow, or even partake in something so heinous as murder.   
I miss the ignorance and naivety of not knowing what it feels like to watch the light dim from someone's eyes while simultaneously taking joy in the fact that my actions, hell, my hands tightening around their neck was the reason they were taking their last breath.  
My morals used to be based upon the stories I've read and in all the books I've explored and the concepts I strived to understand, every one of them eventually led me to believe that even in the worst of times, we, people, characters, are resilient.   
The characters in the fantasies I had based my principles and standards upon had always landed on their feet, bested evil so to speak, without blood on their hands. They sought justice in a humane manner that left they're conscious relatively clear. They didn't resort to the contemplation of mass murder in order to stop a few foes. They didn't stand by or assist in the orchestration of hellish plots to end the permanence of life.   
And all, or almost all of the core group survived to tell their side and lived happily ever after with the notion that they did the right thing. That they did not fall victim to an idea that vengeance was the same as justness...  
I guess I had been reading the wrong type of stories because if that were true and I continued with the belief that every evil can be stopped with good intentions then I wouldn't be here and maybe just maybe all the others would be alive continuing whatever fucked up life they led before I got involved. Or maybe they would have died another way I really don't know. All I know is that I wouldn't have become this. I wouldn't be living with and justifying the morality of murder.   
What happened was complex and skewed, flawed in more ways than one. I will do my best to explain the events that took place without intentionally leaving pieces out or fabricating a narrative for the betterment of my situation. I know why I am here. I know what I did. But I am struggling to come to terms with there being another option. With fully regretting what I helped do. Because as it stands now I don't see another way it could have ended.  
I really don't have every fact necessary to fill in all the holes but what I can tell you is a collection of information that I've acquired and some that I've lived. 

*********************

"This is a shit show." Detective Hua stated as she sipped her now lukewarm coffee. She grimaced while turning her back on the interrogation room.  
"Tell me about, if I wasn't 8 years sober I'd be adding that Jack you have in your bottom drawer to this cup." 

Officer Graham stepped to the window, his gaze unwavering as he continued.   
"You know, I recognized a few of the bodies in the morgue. Runaways and missing persons. I just got done questioning the ringleader, or whatever the hell he calls himself again."

Graham turns slightly, facing Hua, smoothing down his uniform and trying not to jostle his mug. 

"That wack job in the other room was telling me they've been 'helping to enlighten conflicted souls' for years."   
Officer Graham stopped his one-handed air quote and rubbed at his tired face muffling part of his next question.  
"How is Officer Lucas doing questioning the kid?"

Detective Hua twitched her neck attempting to dispense the tension she was feeling and removed her hair from its tight ponytail.   
"So far they are on their third time trying to recount what happened. It's difficult to understand, the kid hasn't said much other than to ask for some paper and a pen. Can't say I blame the kid after what they witnessed. I've read the first few pages about the actual deaths and so far I'm not sure I wouldn't have wanted to take the same action as they did. It was intense." Sighing Detective Hua puts down her coffee on a nearby desk.   
"Reading this statement just makes me glad my family was never very religious yea know? Sacrificing all for the noble cause of God's good graces. Let us drown you in this river so we can all be without sin." Detective Hua began gathering her wallet and coat.

"Jesus, is that how those Does' we found near the church were killed?" Officer Graham asked as he followed the detective out to the front of the station.

The station was abuzz with chatter. This was the largest homicide investigation the town had ever seen. The amount of uniformed and non-uniformed officers made the area feel dense and claustrophobic. Sidestepping the parade of people to get to the front door Hua glanced back to look at Graham before responding.

"That's what the kid wrote. That most of the deceased, men, women and children alike, were participants of a purge. A cleansing ritual the group called the Purification. Hell if I didn't believe all these things happened I'd say she was a hell of a writer."

Officer Graham noticeably gulped. His face paled at the thought of the small bodies they had found with weighted chains connecting the corpses together. Shaking his lowered head Graham took a moment and let the bile that attempted to rise from his throat ebb. 

"This is some sick shit. Who the hell are these Clarity Church members?"


	2. The Road to Nowhere

June 13th, 2018

The car swerved. The narrow road not accommodating enough to be able to veer far on either side without meeting degrees of brush. The sound of shrubbery exfoliating the side of metal alerted her.

"Shit! Mom!" Emma screamed.

Her mother jerked the wheel and slammed on the brakes, nearly colliding with a hand made wooden sign. Labored breathing filled the enclosed space.

"I'm sorry honey, " Mary Margaret stated while unbuckling her seatbelt and turning towards her daughter.

"I must have been dozing off."

"Yeah, I got that." Emma's tone was dry as she shakily placed the book she was reading in her bag. She scanned her mother's body, not finding any sign of injury from the near accident.

Mimicking her mother's actions with her own seatbelt, she opened the passenger door and begin assessing the damage to the vehicle.

"It's just a few scratches, but I think it's time for me to drive."

" Sure Em, I just have to pee first. Little peanut is pushing on my bladder something fierce." Mary Margaret said while searching for adequate privacy behind a pine.  
Survey her surroundings, Emma stopped in front of the almost speed bump of a sign.

"Welcome to Ila of Clarity. Ila, what does Ila mean again?"

From somewhere in the tree line Mary Margaret responded. "Don't remember, Google it?"

"I can't. I haven't had a signal since we stopped at that gas station a town or two back." Turning back to the car Emma continued.

"Didn't that lady from the shelter say something about family or cogs in a wheel, some metaphorical bullshit like that?"

Wiping her hands on her pants Mary Margaret walked to and opened the passenger door.  
"Yeah, that was it!" Her voice took on a pleasant, hostess like tone.  
"They're one big family, working in unison like cogs in a wheel. They offer peace and clarity to those who are willing to seek it."  
Smirking Mary Margaret tossed the keys to Emma and motioned her to the driver side with a tilt of her head.

"That sounds like a creepy advertisement for a hipster vacation in a yurt."

Emma started the car but paused, examining her mother's face. Mary Margaret stared back, her upturned lips and crinkling of eyes pulled at the swollen and but barely visible bruises that covered her left brow bone down to her cheek. She reached out, scarcely grazing her mother's face to be met with a flinch.

"Does it still hurt?"

"No honey, I'm fine. We're fine and safe now. Your father won't be able to find us here."

Sighing Emma put the car in drive.  
"He's not my father!" Anger instantly lacing her voice.

"Em," Mary Margaret 's inflection was admonishing.

"No! Mom, ” Her jaw clenched. Already white, her knuckles gripped hard at the steering wheel.

"He's just some junkie cop who deserves to have a rod shoved up his…"

"EMMA MARIE SWAN! I will not have you speaking in that manner! He was a good man, at least when I met him he was. He took in a single mom and provided for us. He practically raised you!"

"He BEATS YOU!" Emma wildly gestured to her mother's face. "He pimped you out for his next fix, hell do you even know if that baby is his?"

"Enough! We have already discussed this. Calm down and keep your eyes on the road. We are not going through this again."  
Her mother's tone lowered to a soothing octave.

"Those were my choices, the drugs, the experimentation." Mary Margaret put a hand on Emma's shoulder and squeezed.  
"I'm trying honey, God I'm trying. " Mary Margaret 's other hand began stroking her growing stomach.

"This is my second chance… Our second chance. We can be safe here, a happy family. And maybe eventually you will stop worrying about me so much so you can live your own life. This is our new beginning, can you just give this place a chance, for me?"

Blinking back tears, Emma nodded. Her anger receding and warm emotion taking its place.

"Of course mom. I can, I promise."

Pleased, Mary Margaret leaned her head on the glass of the window. Enjoying the comforting feeling of being enveloped by the arboraceous scenery.  
Emma continued the drive in silence, save for the continuous drumming with a hand to her thigh. A nervous gesture that noted her tremulous thoughts as she followed the slender dirt path that flowed deeper into isolation.  
Even as she thought of her mother's statement of being 'safe', her thoughts darkened.  
'How can she still say he's my father? After everything he has done!'

Emma shook her head to hinder that train of thought from proceeding.  
As much as she tried not to, she knew she would put forth as much effort as she had to in order for this 'Ila' to work. To be the safe haven they needed, she had to for her mom and for that baby.  
She would be damned if that child had to be raised in an environment full of domestic violence and drug abuse. This baby deserves so much better, her mom deserves so much better.  
With that thought, Emma glanced at her mother's face and her stomach coiled with images of what might have happened had she not arrived when she did that night.

*********************

_Echoes of silence filled the room. The house was still, eerily so. It reminded Emma of what death must be like. A quiet room, the stench of metal lingering and burning her nostrils with each inhalation and the feeling of complete abandon._   
_ She scrambled for purchase through the dark, bumping into scattered garbage that laid ruin to an already shambled excuse of a house._   
_ Perhaps 'house' was to kind a word, this place was a fucking crack den now._

_' Mom will be here, of course, she will.'_

_Emma continued her slow pace through the room, phone clutched in hand. Barely clasped through trembling fingers. She knew she could just as easily have switched on the flashlight on her phone, but she was too scared too._   
_ Fear encircled her and stopped her from pressing one simple button that would illuminate her surroundings and make this game of finding a drug-riddled Waldo, that much quicker but she just couldn't._   
_ She was so certain that if she did, her worst nightmare would come true and she would find that her mother had ultimately succumbed to death by a meth-induced lethal injection via her own mother's sick habit. Or that her pseudo father had once again mutilated her, but this time to the point of no return._   
_ Either way, Emma knew that in whatever state she found her mother, it would be her fault. She didn't stop it in time. She wasn't there like she should have been. She fucked up, she was selfish._   
_ She had wanted one night, just one night of being an irresponsible teenager. One night of stupid fun, instead of scrubbing vomit from her mom's hair and taming fevers from withdrawal or stopping her stepfather's regressive views on the 'rule of thumb'._

_'But that's not my life.' Emma thought to herself._   
_ She drew in the most even breath she could and braced herself for what she would find._

*********************

"Emma," Mary Margaret said. Waving a hand close to her daughter's face.

"Em, hey you're not dozing off, are you? You've only been driving for 20 minutes, hun."

"What? Oh, no I'm sorry. I just kinda got lost in thought. But I'm fine."

"Good hun because I am beat and little peanut and I could really use the break."  
Mary Margaret hunkered down, leaning farther into the passenger door, attempting to get more comfortable.  
Emma flashed her mother a reassuring smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"Sleep mom, I'll take care of everything."

Emma split her attention between the road and finding a good song to keep her occupied. It works for a while, the distraction of good music mixed with the peaceful scenery had calmed her significantly.  
But the reprieve from her thoughts was short-lived as the next song on Mary Margaret 's playlist surged through the speakers and- Lana Del Rey's 'God Knows I Tried' filter through.  
Emma's memory of that night not long ago scorned her once more.

*********************

_'I can do this.' Emma thought as she hardened herself to the truth of what might be._   
_ 'What if she relapsed?'_   
_ 'Maybe she's dead?'_   
_ 'Maybe he finally killed her?'_

_Her brain unhelpfully supplied various potential outcomes for why her mother was not answering. For why the pit of her stomach felt heavy with the burden of uncertainty as if it was bottoming out with every step she took up the stairs._   
_ It felt like an eternity before she reached the top and blindly searched for the switch she knew was there._

_"Nothing, of course! Dammit, I swear to God mom, if you're not dead we are going to have a serious talk about our living situation and I don't know-learning how to pay the fucking electric bill!" Emma chuckled to herself and then choked back a sob at what she had just said. She roughly batted at her eyes, tears streaming freely down when a muffled sound greeted her._   
_ Faint music could be heard through the closed master bedroom door._   
_ "Mom? Mom are you in here?" Emma's voice sounded small and raspy even to her own ears._   
_ Flickering lights, of what could only be candles streamed through the cracks in the door. The music was clearer now. The haunting melody stopped and started again. The song was on repeat, an endless loop of melancholy and dread. Running water echoed within the small bathroom as a backdrop to Emma's worst fear._   
_ As she reached for the door handle, Emma noticed water pooling by her feet and sharply wrenched the door open._

_"No!" Was the immediate first words she cried._

_Through the heavily shadowed room, Emma saw her mother in what should be, under any other circumstances relaxing-submerged in her clawfoot tub. But Mary Margaret was fully-clothed, head back and expression peaceful. Dried black mascara marks further marred a beaten and bloody face._

_'Blood, there is so much blood.'_

_Her mother's arm dangled awkwardly and motionlessly over the side of an overflowing porcelain barrel. Sanguine fluid flowing, tinging the water and floor a faint scarlet._

_"Oh, God! Mom!" Emma lunged for her, pulling her out of the tub and none too gently onto the floor._

_For a few seconds, everything stopped. Time froze and every sick, and twisted predicament that they had endured together was monetarily forgotten._   
_ Thick lines of crimson stretched upward on Mary Margaret 's arms. This was it, her mother had finally done it. She was too late._   
_ Then she saw the smallest rise and fall of Mary Margaret 's chest. Her mom was breathing, it was stilted and shallow but there none the less._

_'This can't be the end' Emma thought to herself as she fumbled with her phone to call for help._

_"I promise you, mom I will do better. Just please survive."_


	3. Welcome to the "Ila of Clarity"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made some adjustments because I am indecisive!

"Mom, wake up." Emma jostled Mary Margaret 's shoulder gently. "We're here, I think?"

Mary Margaret quickly straightened in her seat and scooted as far from the oppressing hand as possible. Alarm clearly showed in her mannerisms.

It took a few moments for Mary Margaret to comprehend that it was her daughter next to her, and she instantly sagged into a more relaxed posture.

  
Emma ignored the reaction as best as she could this wasn't the first time she had noticed her mother's lifestyle and battered emotional scars making themselves known. She wished her mother's defenses weren't wound so tight, in expectation of an inevitable blow. It frightened her to see it, to see her mother so… Broken.

Clearing her throat, she asked, "This is the place, right?"  
Mary Margaret nodded and just like that, it was like a switch had been flipped and she was all bright smiles, emanating warmth like a crisp sunny day.

  
"Oh my goodness! Can you believe this Em? We're here!"  
Mary Margaret made an ungodly high pitched squeal. "We are home baby!"

  
Gaffing Mary Margaret bolted out of the car, in such a cheerful manner that it surprised Emma and made her ache to always see her mother this happy.

  
"Here's to new beginnings." Emma declared to an empty car, before following suit and exiting the vehicle.

Expansive-the scenery, the buildings, the community areas. It was definitely not a 'vacation in a yurt'. Whatever Emma had imagined, this commune to be, it was not this.

People were milling about, all in similar clothing. All smiling, joyful expressions, as if only they were privy to some hidden wonder from within.

It was picturesque and aesthetically pleasing, the way the trees and wooden-log structures meshed together. Like it belonged. Everything looked handmade and with care.  
It was as if every hallmark movie her mother had forced her to endure growing up had heaved a dream-like small town, complete with a homey and perfect cast just for them.

"Mom, you're gonna love it here," Emma said smiling and turned to where she had last seen her mother.

Quirking her brow she moved her head from side to side in a quick searching motion.  
'Where is my mom?'

As if summoned by her inner thoughts, Mary Margaret appeared from an unknown direction, followed by an impossibly handsome man and a withered looking older woman.

"Emma!"

Mary Margaret said with what seemed like boundless energy.  
"This is Graham and, I'm sorry, what's your name again?" Mary Margaret tilted her head towards the woman in expectation.

The elder woman's countenance soured as she straightened her posture.  
"Cora, dear. As I previously stated."  
Distain clearly evident in her voice.

Mary Margaret appeared unfazed by the woman's tone and picked up where she left off.  
"Right, Cora."  
Mary Margaret offered her a tight smile and turned back to Emma and excitedly proclaimed. "Graham is the Headman of the community and he offered to show us around!"

"More like figurehead dear," Cora muttered cuttingly under her breath.

Emma eyed the woman questioningly.  
"What was that?” She asked, but was cut short of a response when the man, Graham, stepped forward.

"Good Afternoon, I'm Graham, Graham Anele. You must be Emma?"

Graham extended a long arm to Emma. A tender smile etched his well-proportioned features. She took it, his grip was firm, yet somehow gentle.

"It's a pleasure to meet you and I would like to formally welcome you both to Ila of Clarity."

Graham let go of Emma's hand and gestured to their surroundings.  
"Quaint isn't it." He said as more of a statement than a question.

"What is this place exactly?" Emma inquired.

"I'm glad you asked. This is a safe place. A refuge for people like yourselves and like-minded individuals searching for a greater purpose. We help enlighten conflicted souls, who are willing to make the ultimate renunciation. We are a community, a family."  
Graham answered, his eyes gleamed with pride as he stared at Emma and then Mary Margaret .

"Cool, but you didn't really explain what this place is and I still don't quite understand what it is you people do here? And what is a Headman, specifically?"

"Emma! You're being rude." Mary Margaret said while placing a hand on Graham's arm.

"I'm sorry my daughter's very curious about everything."

Emma rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure you're very busy, but would you show us around now Graham?” Mary Margaret asked with her arm still placed on his forearm.

Graham looked down at Mary Margaret 's hand, slowly he placed his own over hers and gazed into her eyes. His smirk seemed more than friendly and his voice caressed Mary Margaret like the honeyed warmth of whiskey on a lonely winters night.

"I don't mind questions, so long as they're the right ones and to answer yours, Mary Margaret , I would love to show you around."

'Shit, what's happening here?' Emma wondered.

"Oh, uhm… Graham dear, you are far too busy to be showing newcomers around. You don't usually do that."

Cora's inflection seemed to chastise and there was an unsteadiness to her words.  
She steeled herself and continued "Let someone else do it, we have many things to discuss."

Her statement and regard left no room for dismissal.

Graham continued to make eye contact with Mary Margaret for much longer than necessary. Once he finally pulled away, he turned to Cora and gave her a look that Emma didn't quite understand.

He stood to his full size, shoulders back and head held high. On anyone else, the posture could have been seen as intimidating, but on Graham, it almost seemed like a learned behavior of obedience. Even still a warmth stemmed from his presence.  
"You're right, Cora."

Graham looked back at Mary Margaret and with an apologetic demeanor, said, "Please forgive me, but I have much to do."

He squeezed her mother's shoulder.  
"Find me once you have settled in and we can go over what you hope to gain from this experience."

And with a parting smile, he left. Leaving Cora behind to decide the next course of action.

Cora waited until Graham was completely out of sight before acknowledging the pair. It seemed strange to Emma, the way her dark eyes followed him the entire way, as if she was ensuring he obeyed.

Cora then peered at Mary Margaret with such intensity, as though she were assessing a potential threat. And after what felt like an entire minute, she finally spoke.  
"Hmm, it appears I am in charge of assigning someone to show you both around.”

“Oh,” Mary Margaret began, startling Emma from her thoughts.

Her mother had been unusually quiet since Graham departed. She was sure her mother was going to comment on the thorough inspection she received, but instead, her mother said,“You won’t be showing us around then?” Mary Margaret asked in a way that implied an undercut of amusement and relief.

“Oh no, most definitely not. As the adjutant, which means second in command, dear. I must oversee all the issues that Graham has undoubtedly overlooked, which takes priority. You understand of course?”

“But of course, menial organizational duties generally take precedence for someone in your position.”

Her mothers grin was the embodiment of a Cheshire cat. It was her go to expression for dealing with the pompous and pretentious. Her mother continued, her tone sickly sweet.

“Please, ” Mary Margaret signaled with her palm outstretched in a go- ahead manner. “Choose an assignee to show us around. I would hate to be the cause of you being behind on your duties.”

Attempting to hide her surprise Cora's expression quickly changed from appalled to indignant as she twisted her whole body to survey the crowd of individuals flocking by.

Seemingly satisfied she called out, "Ah, Regina, just the person I was looking for."  
Cora motioned for the girl to come closer.

Immediately Emma could tell the, two women were related in someone way, the physical resemblance was uncanny, despite the fact that there was a significant age difference.

Emma felt her cheeks redden as she watched her approach with unabashed enthusiasm. She swallowed back the inappropriate remark that her mind provided and focused on calming her breathing.

Regina took long strides across the short distance, shoulders back, and head held high, with an atmosphere of assertive class.  
Behind her was a younger, willowy man whose absence of graceful motions could be synonymous with uncertainty followed.

“Yes, grandmother?” Regina asked.

“Regina, these are the newcomers you were briefed on. Margo and Emma.”

“Its Mary Margaret , actually,” Mary Margaret said as a correction.

“Of course it is, my mistake.” Cora proceeded, speaking to only Regina. “I must be off, Graham is waiting, but do show these two around. And Dear?” She moved into the girl's space, carefully choosing her words. “Do not think that this gets you out of your other duties. Am I clear?”

Regina agreed and Cora began stepping away. Halting suddenly, she turned around and addressed the young man behind Regina. His tanned completion seemed almost ashen the instant she perceived his presence.

“Neal, I presume you have attended to all your necessary responsibilities since you have been gallivanting around after my granddaughter all day?”

The young man recoiled at her harsh tone and shook his head in the negative before stating “but I was just on my way to finishing them now.”

Emma watched Cora's hard glare and how Regina almost imperceptibly inched closer and in front of Neal.

“Very well then, run along Neal and see to it that everything is done.”

He gave a small wave to the group and hurriedly withdrew himself from the uncomfortable friction emanating from the two women as they started one another down.

Cora’s smirk was downright frightening as she chortled to herself, undoubtedly at the speed in which Neal had left.

At Cora’s departure, Regina released a breath through parted lips-she seems relieved until she angled towards Emma.

“Hi. ” Emma says weakly, her mouth feels slow and dry with Regina's full attention on her.

Fathomless depths fixedly scanned Emma. It’s a slow appraising look that lends a warm shiver up her spine like the barest of caresses. Regina's peering ascent started from her lower half and worked it’s way up, pausing at her face, her obsidian eyes dancing with _something_ while taking in the other woman's features.A ghost of a smile playing at Regina's expression.

And then just like that, it’s over. Eyes that seemed so open and maybe interested? Just a moment ago now have a haze of consternation and a sharpness that Emma doesn’t understand.

They stare at each other a moment longer before Regina looks away without returning her awkward hi and instead begins speaking solely with her mother.

“Hello, Mary Margaret, right? Welcome.” Regina pulls Mary Margaret into a hug, that leaves Emma on the outside of the conversation.Regina's back towards her as Mary Margaret responds to a question she didn’t hear and her mother gives her a rather Lengthy summary of their drive here.

All of this seems so odd to Emma, finding out about this place and coming here, being introduced to the “headman”, the snooty old bag they just met and most of all Regina's reaction to her. This whole situation is beyond ridiculous and at this point, Emma is ready to just head back to the car and tell her mom this is a waste of time. But then she remembers her promise and how her mom already looks a little less broken and a little more hopeful.

She tunes back into to the conversation just in time to hear her mom say “Oh, where are my manners, this is Emma, my daughter.”  
Regina’s eyes land on Emma once more, but her reproach is more criticizing then it had been the first time. With a tight-lipped smile she nods and then Mary Margaret is steering the discussion once more.

“And this, ” Mary Margaret let’s her hand fall to her small protruding stomach, rubbing it gently as if it were the most fragile thing she has ever touched. “this is peanut.”

Mary Margaret ’s expression thick with adoration as she keeps up her delicate strokes. “My perfect little baby.”

Emma shifts away from her mother, toeing the gravel underfoot and pointedly keeping her face from the affection she is displaying. Mary Margaret , as usual, is completely oblivious to a silent plea.

The action did not go unnoticed by Regina though, who thought it was a rather curious reaction. But instead of lingering on the distraught look the blonde had she asked Mary Margaret more questions about the pregnancy.

“Oh, I have about six and a half more months left. But it is going by so quickly. I’m going to miss being pregnant when it’s over. I never really had the chance to enjoy my pregnancy when I had Emma. Everything during that time was such a blur of heartache. I’m blessed to be able to really appreciate this. A second chance!”

A tension, palpable to even Regina stifled the conversation. Regina glanced at Emma-her head was still downcast as she fidgeted with the dirt.

She cleared her throat, “Well, I am so glad you decided to come and be apart of our family. I look forward to our continued interaction while I help you all get acquainted here, but for now why don’t I take you to your rooms, so you can get a opportunity to settle in?”

It was the reprieve, Emma, needed to clear her head and compose herself once more. They walked in relative silence, well, Emma was silent, Mary Margaret was chattering on-never one to be comfortable with her own thoughts or lulls in dictation.

And Regina, Regina was nodding along politely, unable to get in more than a “That’s interesting” or “Really” because her mother could indeed keep a conversation going with a brick wall if it meant she was able to express herself and tell her life story aloud. 

The compound was even more impressive up close. There were ample small buildings with a rustic vibe that utterly fit the scenery of trees that spread across their vicinity like a perfect bubble. A wall of security-beautiful, strong and safe.

Emma, always the cynic, just wasn’t sure how long that would last.  
That sense of solace from being removed from society was hardly an adequate defense to still her into believing that he would never find them. That he would give up and leave them to a peaceful existence. That they could ever find something so permanent as a forever home. 

No, not with the past still nipping at their heels with every shadow that lurks beneath their smiles and in every corner of their mind, like a more realistic version of Nightmare on Elm Street . Where instead of falling asleep and meeting Freddy Krueger, you drift into a slumber and see the mirror image of yourself, your past mistakes and the demons you could only hope to bury.

That is the real living nightmare. The true oppression of succumbing to your own reality. Of waking from a dream like terror only to discover that living your tangible life is so much worse.

No, life for them could not be as simple as a mere belief that this will all just work out for them. Emma knew better than to hold out hope for something so childish.

As they reached what must be the community square, which judging from her mothers increasing excitement, she figures is true but she wasn’t really listening. She thinks that it has a very rugged Farmers Market type vibe.

The kind you go to and meet the perfect families buying only organic farm to table produce for their children and pricey authentic hand-made bullshit for Todd and Rod because they are the light in their parents' lives.

There are a lot more people present then she expected and she catches clips of Regina explaining to Mary Margaret that they do actually hold a Market of sorts. Where people from all over come to buy from their little town-out in the middle of what Emma is dubbing, a reboot of Hills Have Eyes but with a forest setting. 

She tries to think of the last time she had been to anything that would resemble a homegrown pop up such as this but really her childhood was one fucked up relapse after another via the fault of her only living biological parent. The parent who is now practically vibrating with joy while they walk for God knows how long to get to their rooms.

Pushing past the people as gently as she can and maneuvering through the thralls of enamored individuals by stalls.  
She looks down at a child who is having a complete toddler meltdown and screaming to leave- and thinks ‘yeah buddy, me too'.

What she wouldn’t give to be that age again and still naïve enough to assume that her mother’s fabrication of the way they had lived was actually normal. That any part of her life thus far was actually good and wholesome.  
It’s not to say that there weren’t times that were good, because there were. The spurts in which her mother had held down a job at a new hospital or clinic, before they found her stealing narcotics or shooting up in a supply closet, were great.

Those had been the instances from her memories that she often wished to relive. Where Mary Margaret had seemed real and full, alight with love as she grazed her cheek and then swing her around and danced and danced and danced. 

A time before the bruises and shouting, the needles and shakes. A time before they had ever met him and he had yet to single handily dismantled every fairytale fantasy Emma had ever had.

“And finally, this is where you will be staying.” Regina said.

It startled Emma, even though Regina's smooth octave was oddly favorable, but she was standing right next to her and this was the first time she had been directly addressed by her. 

Emma blinked, trying to untangle herself from blistering impressions of things best forgotten. Regina must have sensed something from her state, because she reached out, a careful squeeze to her upper arm. 

“I apologize that it took so long to get here. I tend to forget that…crowds generally aren’t everyone’s cup of tea. Especially given the reasons you both have sought us out.”

Regina was looking at Emma, concern clearly written on her face.

“Are you alright?” She asked.

“Emma is probably just tired. Right, Em?”

Before Emma could respond Mary Margaret began again. “Which room is ours?” 

Regina gave a small upturn of lips, removing her hand from Emma's arm and ushering them farther down the hall of what resembled and old apartment type installation. 

“It was an old hotel.” Regina stated, practically reading Emma's mind. 

“Graham’s great-great relatives owned most of this town. They monopolized large amount of properties until they acquired everything. It’s been passed down ever since, as a form of inheritance, I guess. Graham's father started this charter about 30 years ago now. He wanted to help people in need. People who had been cast out and left in the cold, people who were wandering without a sense of purpose, and those without a home who required sanctuary.”

Mary Margaret and Emma were thoughtfully quiet. Each for their own reasons, as Regina continued her account of the community. A wistful longing gracing her profile. 

“From what the others have said, the one’s who have been around since the start- Mr. Anele had a passion about him. A genuine authenticity to serve others and guide them to a sense of fulfillment. So he moved here with a few individuals who shared in his wisdom and started the Ila of Clarity soon after. Graham, now carries that torch so to speak and aspires to continue his late father's legacy.”

“Oh my, that so wonder, you think so, Emma?” Her mother asks with teary-eyed marvel.

  
Emma slowly shakes her head but asks Regina, “You said his late father? He passed away?”

  
“Yes, unfortunately, he did. I don’t really know all the details, as this was well before I was born and it is a sore subject to bring up among our people.” Regina gives Emma a meaningful look as to make a point for her not to talk about it again.

“ Graham loved his father dearly and so did my grandmother, Cora. So we don’t bring up Mr. Anele's death very often, but he passed away when Graham was about then. So my grandmother has helped run this place with Graham ever since.”

Regina points to two doors. “Now if we are done with that line of questioning here are your rooms. They have adjoining doors if you wish to use them.” 

Emma's cheeks reddened only slightly. She has grown accustom to having her foot perpetually in her mouth at all times. This had been one of the milder moments.  
She took in the open door and paused, running her hand over the key lock, on both sides. 

“These doors can only be unlocked from the outside,” Emma stated.

The subtle widening of Regina's eyes was the only indicator of her surprise. “Yes that is true, how very observant of you.” She said moving into the room and out of Mary Margaret ’s way.

  
“Some of the people we help here… well when they first get here, are still quite dependent upon drugs. We lead them through their withdrawals and the other symptoms that follow. It can be worrisome for other members who do not have that affliction.”

  
Emma's attention shifted to her mother.

  
“Yeah, I can understand that.” Said Emma, her voice distance and small.

  
“That is also the reason we have a curfew in place, which is 11 pm. Just so you know.”

Regina went over to her mother, where Mary Margaret was taking pleasure in, opening dresser drawers and calling out which room would be hers. As if this were some type of vacation and she was a giddy adolescent, without a care in the world.

  
She shook her head and tried not to think of all the times as a child she had to lock herself in her own room, constantly afraid of her what version of her mother she was going to get in any given moment.

  
“I will be back in about an hour to show you around a bit more and we can make our way down to the dining hall after.” Regina's statement wasn’t phrased as a question, but Emma responded as such anyway.

  
“Yeah, sure that sounds great. Thanks.”  
As Regina was leaving she noticed Emma's hand wander over the keyhole on the door once more.

  
“She may be a problem.” Regina muttered to herself.


End file.
